


You can't be serious.

by cannibananalism



Category: Spring Awakening
Genre: M/M, just some cute fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibananalism/pseuds/cannibananalism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starting a collection of prompt-based fluffy stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You can't be serious.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from @sa_confess on Twitter "write me some fluffy hernst, 'Did you just fall out of that tree?'" Your wish is my command! Hope you enjoy.

Hanschen expects certain things on his walk home from school. He had taken it day after day for, what, five years now… Since his parents finally decided their baby was old enough to find his own way home. The walking was his first rite of passage. Hanschen couldn’t help but walk tall and proud because at sixteen years old, he was considered man enough to walk from his house to the schoolhouse and back. Of course, most other boys had that privilege… Yes, but Hanschen lived the farthest away. None of the girls would ever walk with him for fear of...something. That awful vineyard is so big and such a maze. Rumors spread about Hanschen luring people in and tying them up with grape vines, only to suck their blood like a spider. Perhaps they weren’t wrong. Who knows?

Well, yes, Hanschen expects the brown squirrel with the defective tail to cross his path about three minutes into his walk, but only in the warmer months. He expects the sun to set gently, illuminating his path with brilliant reds and pinks. The baker’s old wife will wave to him and ask him when he is to start working and whether or not he will work with them. Hanschen will pass the church; on the first day of each month, he will enter and confer with the priest to see which Sundays he will be working as their favorite altar boy. He certainly expects Frau Grossenbustenhalter’s beloved cat Hubertus to rub himself against his legs and purr, expecting a scratch or two behind the ears. He always delivers, having a lovely conversation with Frau G as he does.

However, he doesn’t quite expect boys to fall out of trees and land at his feet. If that were a normal occurrence, that would surely mean Hanschen had died and gone to heaven. Especially if the special delivery is none other than Ernst Robel, the very paragon of twinkdom.

 _“Did you just…fall out of that tree?”_ Hanschen signs to the small boy sprawled out on the wet ground beneath him. His only response is a low groan and a very red face. _“What were you doing, Ernst?”_ He rolls his eyes, kneeling down to help him up. It’s only then that he can see the tears that have stained Ernst’s cheeks. Come to think of it, Ernst had gone home for lunch and had never returned to school. He must’ve been in that tree for hours. _“Ernst. Please, talk to me. What’s wrong?”_  Nothing. And so Hanschen places a hand beneath Ernst’s chin and pulls up, so they are finally eye-to-eye. Ernst looks furious and hurt and helpless all at once. His little button nose is full of snot and his apple cheeks are wet and splotchy. Hanschen takes his father’s handkerchief from his breast pocket and gingerly dabs at his friend’s face. Ernst does not fight back, but he also does not look all that thrilled. He finally raises his hands to speak.

 _“I can’t believe you, Hanschen. Can’t believe. B. O. B. B. Y. M. A. H. L. E. R. Hanschen, I thought we were…”_ He makes the sign for _married_ and decides that’s childish and dramatic. Then _boyfriends_ , but maybe that’s too committed. So he signs _sweethearts._ That’s stupid. It doesn’t quite matter, though, since Hanschen can’t keep up with this erratic, rapid-fire signing.

All Hanschen can do is toss his head back and laugh. Ernst watches in silent horror as his husband-boyfriend-sweetheart giggles, his pale blond hair swishing and shining in the setting sun. Ernst taps Hanschen’s shoulder. Hard. _“Hanschen, please! Why are you laughing?”_

_“B. O. B. B. Y. M. A. H. L. E. R. is nothing but an asshole.”_

_“But you were flirting with him… I saw. You smiled at him…”_

_“You can’t be serious. I guess that’s when you must have run away, Ernst. He was making fun of you. I thought you had seen. After I smiled, I slapped him. Across his face.”_ Hanschen mimes a slap on Ernst’s warm cheek, gently and slowly.

Ernst’s face falls, the pain and anger retreating to leave space for the reverence and awe that soon took their place. That’s one of the many things Hanschen loves about Ernst. One did not need to speak to him to know how he felt. Every emotion writes itself clearly on his face. Or perhaps… Hanschen just knows him well enough to know just how he’s feeling. Like an extension of his own mind and soul.

His thumb wipes away the freshly fallen tears and traces the curves of a growing grin.

 _“To think I was up in that tree thinking of all the ways I could get back at you.”_ Ernst giggles as  he signs, shaking his head at his own silliness. Hanschen rolls his eyes, placing his hands over Ernst’s, the universal sign for shut up and kiss me. And he does. The tiny boy stands on the tips of his toes to unite his lips with those of his husband-boyfriend-sweetheart’s. Their eyes flutter shut. The recipe to a perfect kiss is present within theirs; a set of soft lush lips between lips full of peels and cracks. An angel softening a callused, harsh boy. Reaching into his heart and picking out the imperfections. Perhaps the girls will still see Hanschen as a blood-sucking monster, but Ernst knows that deep inside… Hanschen has the ability to care more deeply about a person than anyone ever has before.

Ernst breaks the kiss to sign every variation of  _I love you_ that he could possibly think of.

And so they walk hand-in-hand through the vineyard, silent but connected by their minds, each knowing exactly what the other is thinking. One mind and one soul shared between two very different boys.


End file.
